


The Next Time I Hold You, I'm Not Letting Go

by Dresupi



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Canon Era, Canon Related, Everybody Lives, F/M, Good Parent Ned Stark, Kissing, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Pining, Theon Greyjoy Lives, Worry, idk what to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26254225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: Everyone had warned her not to stand upon the wall beside the Hunter’s Gate this late at night. Seven hells, they’d told her not tobeatop the wall, full stop.But Sansa had ceased listening to anyone the moment she realized Theon wasn’t amongst the survivors from the war beyond the Wall. And even though they were the victors, she couldn’t find a reason to rejoice.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark
Kudos: 98
Collections: Dresupi's Theonsa Fics





	The Next Time I Hold You, I'm Not Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Canon where nobody dies and the North stays in their lane and goes to fight the White Walkers beyond the wall instead of waiting for them to fight their way down with an enormous undead army. Instead, they just have a kind of huge army. 
> 
> Anyway, Theonsa betrothal/arranged marriage kind of thing... idek. I hope you like it!
> 
> Part of my Song Prompts Series for 2020, based on the song "The Longer the Waiting (The Sweeter the Kiss) by Anna Ternheim
> 
> Special thanks to Meilan_Firaga for looking this over for me! <3
> 
> Also, enjoy the mood board I made to go along with this:

Everyone had warned her not to stand upon the wall beside the Hunter’s Gate this late at night. Seven hells, they’d told her not to _be_ atop the wall, full stop. 

But Sansa had ceased listening to anyone the moment she realized Theon wasn’t amongst the survivors from the war beyond the Wall. And even though they were the victors, she couldn’t find a reason to rejoice. 

Father had taken the armies of the North beyond the Wall to fight the Night Walkers, and with him, he’d taken Robb, Jon, and Theon. 

According to his explanation, which she’d asked him to repeat over and over again, Theon was injured. A minor injury, which caused him to fall ill with the sweats. And while he was drifting in and out of sleep, a decision had been made. A decision, Ned had assured her, plagued him daily. Hourly, even. Especially when she saw how much pain it caused Sansa. 

The decision had been to leave Theon behind with a smaller squadron of men to look after him either until he died, or until he got better, while the main bulk of the surviving forces continued homeward. 

It hadn’t been until days later that Ned had gotten the news that the squadron, a party under Roose Bolton’s banner, and headed by his bastard son, Ramsay Snow, had left Theon for dead in the woods. 

Robb had immediately turned around to go find him, Grey Wind along with him. And Jon (and Ghost) had followed Robb. It logically followed that the three of them, plus two dire wolves, were still missing. 

Her mother’s wailing at the uncertain, but probable, loss of her firstborn did nothing but infuriate Sansa. 

Not because Robb didn’t deserve her mother’s tears, because he did. But what of Jon? And Theon? Her mother had raised them the same as she’d done the rest of them. 

And Theon was… Theon was to be hers. Father had only just betrothed them before news of the White Walkers had reached Winterfell. And Theon, in order to prove to Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark that he’d be a dutiful and proper husband to their eldest daughter, had assured Sansa that he wouldn’t even so much as kiss her until they’d exchanged cloaks. 

He’d then left the warmth and safety of Winterfell to kill White Walkers with Robb and Jon. He’d left her here. With all of these people around her. Rejoicing and happy, when she felt broken and empty inside. 

She couldn’t smile. She couldn’t cry. All she could do was watch and wait. She spent every waking second she was able standing atop the Hunter’s Gate with Lady at her feet. She spent the time gazing out into the wilderness beyond, hoping against hope to see a torch ahead of five sets of footprints. 

Tonight was no different. 

A pair of footsteps alerted her to the end of her lonely vigil, and she turned, half-expecting to see Maester Luwin or Arya. She was surprised to see her Father instead. He was pulling off his wolf fur cloak, intending to give it to her. He draped it around Sansa’s shoulders, his hand lingering on the clasp. She brought hers up to cover it. 

He chuckled softly. “Truly a lady of the north, aren’t you, my dear?” 

“What makes you say that?” she asked, her eyes not leaving the tree line. 

“One would assume that you’d be nearly chilled to the death out here, but if anything, you’re putting off more heat than the hot springs.” 

She didn’t return his slight chuckle. “That’s good, then. I can stay out longer.” 

He sighed sadly. “I’m sorry, Sansa. I should have carried him here myself.” 

She shook her head. “You told me already. He was dying. Would you die too, to bring me my dead intended?” 

“If it would keep you from looking like you can’t decide whether to throw yourself from the walls or run out after him, then yes. I’d do it ten times over.” 

She sighed, a lump rising in her throat as she exhaled, trying to be silent, but instead sounding baleful and silly. “You know, he’s been entirely proper in his attentions.” 

“Aye. I should hope so.” 

“No, I mean… entirely.” She looked up to lock her gaze with her father’s. “I’m not sure exactly what it is I’m missing. He drove me to tears when we were children. And he’s never shown me an ounce of affection since. I’m not sure why I’m--” 

“Because Sansa. You are like me. You’ve got a vision of how the world is supposed to work. Of how people are supposed to act within that world. You think a husband will love his wife because that’s all you’ve ever seen.” 

She swallowed. “You make me out to be a silly girl with stars in her eyes. I don’t have any delusions about any of this. I don’t think Theon loves me. I’m simply… mourning the loss of something I never had to begin with.” 

“He does love you,” Ned assured her. “He spoke of you often. So often we had to throw things at him to shut him up. Almost made your brothers sick with his proclamations.” 

That made her smile for the first time in weeks. It hurt to use those muscles. Her cheeks and jaw ached. It wasn’t long before streams of hot tears poured from her eyes, in direct opposition to the feeling that had prompted the smile to begin with. 

It felt as if her entire body had been cracked open. Raw and sore, and exposed to the air. She keened into her hands, her knees buckling beneath her. 

Lady was immediately at her side, nuzzling her shoulder with her head and whining, unable to change whatever it was that had her mistress so upset. 

Her father enveloped her in his arms and supported her weight while she sobbed as she hadn’t since she was a child. She felt small once again, tucked into his embrace, but instead of safety, she was entirely lost because this wasn’t something her father could mend, was it? He couldn’t magically pluck Theon from the cold and drop him down here beside her. Father could do so, smiling in that put-upon way he did when he’d fetch her doll from someplace Robb had hidden it, or present her with some trinket or new fabric for a dress. 

No, this wasn’t something he could remedy. And Sansa, for once, didn’t know how to feel about that. 

He’d always made everything right before. Always. 

“Sansa,” he patted her shoulder. 

“I apologise, Father, I shouldn’t have--” 

“Don’t be silly. If anything, I feel more useful now than I have since I returned, but I believe you should take a look in that direction.” 

She followed the direction he was pointing. In the pitch black, it was difficult to see much else, but a yellow flame burned bright in the darkness. It bobbed in time to a rhythm set by whoever was holding it, slowly moving closer. 

“Is that--?” 

“I’m not sure,” Ned mused. “Care to ride out with me and see?” 

She turned abruptly and made for the stables. 

It took a bit to get the horses saddled, but once they had, she was riding out into the bitterly cold night alongside her father. Lady ran alongside, silent for now, but soon, she’d be howling, searching for her lost siblings. Sansa’s heart was in her throat as they drew ever closer to the flame. 

It stopped moving when they approached. As did they. 

Lady howled, a lone, baleful sound in the silence. A pair of voices answered, howling their reply in unison. Sansa’s heart gave a hopeful jolt. 

“Who’s there?” a familiar voice called out. 

“Robb,” she choked, the anticipation much too great to be born. But she knew better than to run towards him yet. Not until Father informed him of who they were. 

“Ned Stark of Winterfell,” he called. “Who’s there?” 

There was a pause. And a whoop of triumph. “Robb Stark of Winterfell.” 

Nothing could stop her then, she rode forward, as fast as her horse could go, only pulling back when she came near the torch and the three men trudging along through the snow. Lady appeared at her side, jumping and pouncing as she had as a pup, infinitely happy to see her siblings once more. 

She counted them so many times but came up with three each time. Only then did she allow herself to rejoice at the sight of Robb, Jon, and a very thin, but very alive, Theon. 

She slipped down from the horse and nearly fell in her haste to embrace him. 

“Sansa,” he whispered, grunting in surprise when she wrapped her arms around him. He smelled… well, he smelled like he’d been weeks without a bath, so not very good at all. But she didn’t care. 

“Theon,” she murmured, tears beginning to fall again. 

“Shh, no, no, darling, don’t cry,” he said, his hand rubbing her back in soothing circles. “I’m fine. I promise you, I’m as fit as I ever was. Just a bit hungry.” 

“So we’ll feed you,” she said. “Come.” 

“What am I? Horse shit?” Robb asked, grinning smugly at her. 

Sansa dropped Theon’s hand to embrace first her brother, and her half-brother. And to thank them for bringing him back to her. 

“Didn’t do it for you, Sans. I wanted to kill him for all of his poetic expulsions, but it’s Theon, you know?” Robb hugged her a bit more tightly than she’d expected. Jon as well. 

The next few hours were a blur, and her eyes burned from finally shedding all her tears and from lack of sleep, but she was loath to leave them, almost afraid it was some sort of dream and she’d awaken to find them gone again. 

Theon was seated by a table in the Great Hall, his hand clasped in both of hers as the three of them recounted their not-so harrowing tale of walking back alone. Not dangerous at all, except for the freezing temperatures and Theon’s inability to nock arrows due to his still unhealed injury. Jon managed fine without him, but it took a bit longer to hunt than it had before. 

“I’m going to kick Ramsay Snow’s teeth in,” Robb seethed. 

“Don’t bother, you’d scuff your boots,” Theon retorted. He waved his other hand vaguely. “It’s fine. I’m back and he’s not going to marry your sister.” 

Sansa snorted. “Arya’d never have him.” 

Robb’s face cracked a smile at that. “While I’d have probably paid a heap of coin to see him try to marry Arya, it wasn’t her he wanted.” 

Sansa’s eyebrows flew skyward. “Come again? I’m promised to Theon!” 

“True, but if I were dead, I wouldn’t have a claim to you,” Theon reminded her. 

“ _I’ll_ kick his teeth in if I see him again,” she muttered. “Winter will come to Dorne before I’d have him.” 

Theon grinned and Jon snickered, “She will kick his teeth in, you know. She’s not kidding.” 

“I know,” Theon replied, his gaze turning back to her. “I know.” 

Sansa sat up a bit more straight now that his eyes were on her. She dropped one of her hands from his to fix her hair. Adjust her skirt. 

“Fancy a walk?” Theon asked. 

“I’d love to, but I would assume you’ve had enough of that.” 

“I’ve had enough walking with your brothers. I feel I’ve got lost time to make up for with you, however.” 

He stood and helped her stand as well, and the two of them left the Hall, hands still clasped. 

Lady followed them, keeping her ever-present vigil over Sansa, but she held back almost as if she knew they desired privacy. 

They walked as far as the library before Sansa ducked into an alcove, gripping him by the front of his shirt. “I’ve thought about this the entire time you’ve been gone.” 

“I know, I should have kissed you before I left,” he murmured, stepping close enough that she could smell the ale on his breath. He hadn’t had much, not nearly as much as Jon or Robb. But enough. “It was my biggest regret… not having that memory to keep me warm…” 

“I’m sure Robb and Jon kept you plenty warm, Theon,” she teased. 

“I’d thank you not to bring that up in a moment such as this, Sansa,” he retorted. “Not when I’m trying to work up the courage to--” 

She cut him off, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. 

His hands flailed for a moment but came to rest on her waist. She wasn’t very good at this sort of thing and he winced when her teeth scraped a bit too roughly against his lower lip. 

“Sansa…” he whispered, tilting his head and slowly caressing her lips with his. Gods, he was so much better at it than she was. One of his hands left her waist and moved up to cup her jaw and hold her still so he could kiss her properly. 

“Sorry, I’m not… not good at this, I’m afraid,” she rambled between fevered kisses. 

“Are you joking? You’re a natural,” Theon murmured. “Might have to find the stable hand you’ve undoubtedly been practicing with and have him whipped.” There was jest in his tone, but she still flushed pink at the insinuation. 

She shook her head. “You know there is no stable hand. And I’m _not_ good at this, you’re just good at flattering me.” 

“I’m decent at flattery, but not _that_ good.” His eyes were dark when he kissed her again. 

Lady made a soft sound, something between a sniff and a growl. Sansa paid her no mind. 

His hand slipped around to press against her lower back, pulling her nearer and nearer to him. 

Lady yipped softly, a few seconds before a very annoyed cough interrupted them. Sansa spun around to see both of her parents standing there in the doorway, her mother looking very scandalized and her father looked as if he wanted to disappear into a wall. 

Catelyn sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to plan the wedding, won’t we? Sooner rather than later, or he’ll have turned her into his salt wife and we’ll never live it down.” 

Sansa frowned, glancing over at Theon. “Salt wife?” 

He, who had more colour in his cheeks currently than she’d ever seen before, coughed. “I assure you, Lady Stark. My intentions with your daughter--” 

Her mother sighed. “Your intentions are naught but every young man’s, and I suppose I cannot fault you for that. Still, you should be wed sooner rather than later. Sansa, it’s well past time for you to retire. Why don’t you do so now?” Her mother’s tone had changed, and Sansa knew better than to argue, so she gave Theon another longing glance before slipping away to her bed chambers, so very thankful that he, Robb, and Jon were alright. 

Lady followed, shooting Sansa a glance that seemed to say ‘I told you so’. Sansa laughed and scratched her ears. Bless her, she’d tried to warn them. Sansa simply hadn’t cared. 

But, if she wasn’t being too forward in her thoughts, she was more flustered than she could ever recall being. Her mother was correct. The wedding could not happen soon enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a kudos if you enjoyed this!


End file.
